


Archers & Assassins

by JenJo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Idiots in Love, M/M, appearances from other Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12990147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenJo/pseuds/JenJo
Summary: The Avengers playing Dungeons and Dragons. What could possibly go wrong?Besides Clint & Bucky's mutual pining in the background?





	1. We begin our campaign

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
> Okay, so DnD is a thing I play in real life, so when I saw the (amazingly awesome) art by Ace Hawk Art, I just had to write for it.
> 
> If you've never played before, don't worry! The DnD stuff is self explanatory.   
> This is the tale of two idiots in love with each other who are both too scared to admit their feelings out loud.  
> Please enjoy

The wind was whistling through the air on the unnaturally misty morning. 

The previous night had been exceptionally warm, as had the previous week. To have a chilly mist appear out of nowhere like this could only mean one thing.

Taranis Cassidy knew what the mist meant, having encountered such a mist before.

Taranis lived among humans, even took their form, but they were not a human. Cast out from their home in the ocean, they sought to live a simple, uneventful life as a bard.

Unfortunately, life had other ideas, and had seen fit to give Taranis a party to look after,

Taranis quickly looked around, taking note of the way the mist clung to certain trees and plants more than others, and how it seemed to pass  _ through  _ people, rather than  _ around _ them.

“There is an encampment to the west of here,” Taranis turned to explain to the party, noting their confused expressions. “Full of sorcerers who mean us harm.”

There was a moment of silence filled with  _ very  _ confused expressions. 

The first to respond was Eliv Draconae, who shook her head dismissively, her green hair flowing around her face. Outside of battle, she felt no need to do anything with it.  

Her Fey heritage was undeniable, but woe to anyone who brought it up. Even if it was only a drop of Fey blood, it was still enough to allow her to call on everything inherent to the Fey. 

In simple terms? Do not mess with Eliv. 

“How could you possibly know that?”

“I don’t see anything,” Davor Tsadok felt the need to add. His silver eyes betrayed his sorcerer ancestry; the half orc himself was only now coming into his skills. One day, he might even be able to challenge those who had studied their entire lives.

However, today was not that day.

Taranis turned to the fourth member of their party, raising an eyebrow. “Not going to add your voice to those questioning my observation?”

Gorlin Marth shook his head. “No. Gorlin agrees with Taranis. This mist is not natural.”

Gorlin was a goliath, standing at almost seven feet tall. He never said anything more than absolutely necessary, and always referred to himself in the third person. He was a fine fighter, and always found a way to win. 

Needless to say, Taranis did not know much about Gorlin

Though Gorlin’s silence was  _ more  _ than made up for by the other two members of the party, who seemed to always be talking to each other.

“Thank  _ you _ , Gorlin,” Taranis smiled, turning back to the other two members of the party. “Two against two. I can assure you that I am right, having met this mist before and knowing what it heralds. You can heed my warning, or not. But that mist  _ does  _ herald a group of sorcerers who mean us harm.”

“How big a group?” Davor asked after a moment of thought.

Taranis waved a hand through the mist around them, contemplating for a moment. “Five, with many more only a summoning spell away.”

“And you have experience fighting sorcerers?”

“I have experience  _ escaping  _ sorcerers, Davor.” Taranis paused, taking a breath as they looked to each member of their party. “Escape _ is _ an option, you know.”

Eliv cracked her knuckles, before checking that her daggers were in place. “I have always wanted to fight a sorcerer.”

“Might as well see how good my own skills are,” Davor muttered as he examined his hands. 

Taranis turned to Gorlin, gesturing to the other two. “And you, Gorlin? Are you  _ also  _ to ignore my rather obvious warning and go head first into this fight we cannot hope to win?”

Gorlin smiled as he unstrapped a battle axe from his back, swinging it through the air with the skill of someone who had practised for years. “Gorlin never backs down from a fight.”

Taranis rolled their eyes as they followed the party. “Doomed. We are all doomed. Mark my words.”

“You keep saying that, Cassidy,” Eliv turned around, walking backwards and smiling at Taranis. “And yet, we have survived every encounter  _ you  _ were convinced would be our last.”

“I am sorry that the one member of this party who does not have combat training is worried about fighting all the time.”

“Do not worry,” Davor patted Taranis on the shoulder, before nodding at Gorlin. “That is why we have  _ him _ ; to protect  _ you _ .”

“That does not exactly fill me with confidence,” Taranis muttered under their breath, hoping that Gorlin did not hear them. 

Gorlin continued on as though he had not.

 

/////

 

The walk took the party twenty minutes, before finding themselves in the encampment of sorcerers.

They took a moment to strategise.

“Strategise” might be a strong word; the party had yet to figure out  _ how  _ to strategise.

Gorlin went into the encampment first, swinging his axe wildly and managing to subdue one sorcerer.

Two of the other sorcerers were able to attack instantly, stopping Eliv and Davor from having an attack.

That left Taranis to attack; being too far away to draw their rapier, Taranis instead called on the one piece of magic they could rely upon; ear piercing scream.

The scream incapacitated two of the remaining sorcerers, leaving two more. 

These two were very prepared. In a matter of seconds, they had put the entire party into cages, finishing the battle before it could even begin.

They each sat in a separate cage, suspended ten feet above the ground. The cage appeared to be made of bones; Taranis suspected they might be human bones. Or, at the very least, enchanted to  _ look  _ like human bone.

Each cage had about five feet between them. They formed a sort of circle, with a fire on the ground beneath them. If the wind blew right, the heat would reach them in their cages. The wind did not often blow right.

What plans the sorcerers had for the party were unknown.

Were they to be ingredients in a potion? 

Were they to be bait in an elaborate trap?

Only time would tell, and it seemed as though the party would have nothing  _ but  _ time.

Taranis did not want to say “ _ I told you so”,  _ but it was awfully tempting.

Taranis had, after all, told them  _ not  _ to attack the sorcerers.

_ Maybe a  _ little  _ bit of an “I told you so?” _   


“Told you,” Taranis singsonged to the rest of the party.

“Shut up idiot,” Eliv and Davor responded in unison, while Gorlin remained silent, save for occasionally tapping at the bars of the cage.

Taranis laughed, leaning back in their cage. “Idiot” had quickly come to be a synonym for “Taranis”, but Taranis did not mind. What they  _ did  _ mind, was being stuck in a cage for who knows how long.

_ How to pass the time….. I know. _

While the cages dampened magic, no dampener could stop Taranis from calling their lute to them. They began to play a simple tune.

“ _ There was a party of four travellers, as brave as they were clueless,  _

_ And if only they hadn’t been captured, they wouldn’t need use of humulus.” _

  
  


/////

 

“Humulus?”

Clint shrugged, idly drawing on his character sheet. “Needed a rhyme for ‘clueless’.”

“But  _ humulus _ ?” Steve shook his head, pulling down the barrier he set up for these sessions. “So your party is in inescapable cages for the foreseeable future. Sounds like a good place to finish.”

“Can’t believe Steve managed to roll a twenty  _ every  _ time,” Sam shook his head, still in disbelief. “If he hadn’t done that-”

“But he did,” Natasha interrupted, putting her character sheets into their folder, standing up at the same time. “So there is no point in worrying. I have to go now; it was fun, as usual. See you all later.”

Bucky, whose head had been on the table since his character was knocked out, groaned against the table. “Can’t believe I rolled a twenty for once in my life, only to have Steve roll  _ all  _ the twenties.”

Clint reached over to pat Bucky’s back. “There, there.”

Bucky froze, lifting his head up slowly. His eyes met Clint’s, whose eyes were probably as wide as Bucky’s. Before Clint could blink, Bucky had left the room. 

Clint turned around slowly, to see both Steve and Sam staring at him.

“What did I do?”

Sam shrugged, while Steve stood from the table. “JARVIS, clear my screens. Can’t have these two sneaking a peek.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“I’ll go check on Bucky.”

Clint let his head drop back to the table. “Where is Nat when I need her?’

“Do you want my opinion?”

“No, but I have a feeling you are going to tell me anyway,” Clint muttered, turning his head to stare at Sam.

Sam shook his head. “Not going to force it on you.”

“Sam, just tell me.”

“That crush of yours? Not as one sided as you think it is.”

Clint rolled his eyes, going back to staring at the table. “As I told you last week,  _ I  _ do not have a crush. Nor does Bucky.”

“If you say so.”

Clint heard the sounds of Sam leaving, which left Clint alone with his thoughts.

Leaving Clint alone with his thoughts was never a good idea, but here he was.

That crush that Sam mentioned? It was real. 

Maybe a little  _ too  _ real, if Sam is noticing it, and beginning to see signs of it where there were no signs.

Sure, they sometimes flirted in the game, but Clint was a  _ bard _ \- it was practically a job description for him to flirt with people. 

And sure, maybe Clint let his eyes take a little bit more time to look at Bucky, but that was simply because he appreciated a nice body.

Wasn’t it?

Clint groaned again. 

Okay, maaaaybe he had a crush. And maaaaybe he was not able to speak it out loud, for fear of rejection.

Because how could he ever get the attention of Bucky Barnes?

Playing this game was the closest Clint would ever get to a relationship with Bucky.

Bucky was suave, cool, calm, collected, knew exactly what to say and  _ when  _ to say it.

Pretty much the exact opposite of Clint “sticks his foot in his mouth five times before leaving bed” Barton.

_ Maybe a coffee will provide a new perspective? _

 

/////

 

Coffee did, in fact, provide a new perspective, in the form of having to change clothes  _ again _ .

 

/////

 

Bucky sat with his back against the door to his room, head resting on the door and eyes closed.

He was counting down the seconds until Steve knocked on his door.

And right on cue, the knocking began.   
“Not opening,” Bucky said, not making any other movements.

He heard Steve sigh, and heard him sit down on the opposite side of the door. “Not going anywhere.”

“I know you’re not going anywhere.” Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “I messed up.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, yes I did.” 

Steve didn’t get it, not really. On a good day, Bucky was able to verbalise his thoughts. 

On a bad day? Not a chance.

So to even  _ contemplate  _ acting on his… crush (for there was no other word for it) on Clint was beyond terrifying.

The touch today was too much,  _ too much _ , and Bucky could not tell you  _ why  _ he froze the way he did- it had felt right at the time, and maybe it could have been a chance for Bucky to voice his thoughts but then Clint had gone and looked at him with those grey eyes, so open, so  _ there,  _ that Bucky did the only thing he could- he ran.

“You have no problem talking to him in game.”

“That is different, and you know it Steve.”

In game, Clint was Taranis Cassidy, the smooth talking Merfolk Bard who was looking for their place in the world. In game, Bucky was able to talk in a way that he could never manage in the real world. Taranis knew their mind, did not have any clouds within it.

So of course Bucky was able to talk to Clint in game. Well,  _ listen  _ to Clint might be more accurate. For while Taranis Cassidy was a talker, Gorlin Marth was anything but. Short sentences, to the point, never offering more information than was absolutely necessary-  _ that  _ was Gorlin.. And that kind of person is a bit difficult to talk to. 

It did not stop Clint from trying, Bucky knew that. Clint gave him every opportunity to talk more, but Bucky shut it down every time, hiding behind Gorlin’s mask of indifference as an excuse to not talk to anyone.

Being able to hide behind the mask of Gorlin Marth was both a blessing and a curse.

“It is only different because you make it different, Bucky.”

Bucky opened his eyes, rolling them before standing up to open the door without any warning. As always, Steve fell back once he lost the benefit of the door, looking up  at Bucky with a  _ very  _ unamused look on his face.

“Still not funny, Buck.”

Bucky offered Steve a hand, helping him to stand up. “Always going to be funny, Steve.”

“Agree to disagree.” Steve walked over to the couch, sitting on it and looking at Bucky expectantly. Dragging his feet, Bucky sat down in front of the couch, lifting his legs up to rest next to Steve’s.

“Comfortable?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky smiled, and nodded.

“Going to talk about it?”

And the smile was gone. “Do not particularly want to.”

“That is fine by me.” Steve reached out to grab a book he kept in Bucky’s room for times like this, and began reading it.

Steve would not force him to talk, nor would he leave. He would let Bucky open up, or not, as Bucky saw fit.

And Bucky saw fit to lay on the ground, and stare at the roof for an hour.


	2. Dungeons & Dragons: Avengers Edition

Running a campaign with the  _ Avengers  _ was, to say the least, a logistical nightmare.

There was no way to guarantee who would be available, and when. Sometimes only some would be willing to play, other times it would just not be practical.

And then there was the matter of who to have as the Dungeon Master.

After a lot of late night thoughts and at length discussions, the team had come up with a plan.

The first part of that plan? Was that no one would ever be obligated to play. If they could only play for an hour, then so be it. 

The second part of that plan? Was that the campaign they played would be dependent on  _ who  _ was available to play.

(JARVIS was a huge help in the execution of this part).

Experience points were a bit difficult to keep a track of- they tried to separate them based on which campaign was being played, but it was not always easy.

Some people had multiple characters to use, which made separating experience points easier.

Other people used the same character every time, which made separating experience points  _ very  _ difficult. 

JARVIS ended up suggesting that he keep track of everyone’s experience points, and everyone had agreed.

Dungeon Mastering worked on a rotating system that essentially boiled down to “who has the energy to run the story today?”

On one memorable occasion, Clint had taken a turn as Dungeon Master- it was memorable, in that the players (Natasha, Tony, and Steve) had quickly gone off of the plot Clint had carefully constructed, and forced him to create a new adventure on the fly.

(It had worked quite well, though Clint was ready to throw his dice at the wall by the end of it.)

The day that Steve had first suggested the game as an activity for the team was an… interesting day, to say the least.

“You want to play Dungeons and Dragons?” Clint had asked, blinking back at Steve.

Clint had been the first to speak up after Steve had suggested his idea for team bonding/ relaxation/ what have you.

Steve nodded. “Yes Clint, that summarises my point pretty well.”

“You want to play Dungeons and Dragons with  _ us _ ,” Clint waved his fork around the table, indicating the Avengers currently eating dinner.

Again, Steve nodded. “And those not here, yes,”

Clint took another mouthful of pasta, considering his answer, before responding with half a mouth still full of pasta. “ _ Why _ ?”

“I think the better question might be, why  _ not _ .” Steve looked at Clint, who looked back with the same confused stare. Steve sighed, trying again. “It is an activity we can participate in together as a team. It is an activity we can participate in as a team with no risk of physical injuries to ourselves,” Steve amended when Clint opened his mouth to counter the point. “It is a relaxing way to unwind that will not result in injury.”

“Steve, I do not think you have played Dungeons and Dragons,” Wanda said from down the table. Steve turned a questioning look on her, to which she shrugged. “I have played at University a couple of times. It is…. Not what you think it is.”

“When do you find time to go to University?” Clint asked, focusing on what was obviously the most important part of her words.

Wanda smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, you know, in between my duties as an Avenger, my duties as a diplomatic conduit between my father and the wider world, my duties as a mutant, my duties as-”

“Okay, okay, I get your point,” Clint waved a hand at Wanda, who smiled as she went back to her food. “You go to University, and you play Dungeons and Dragons. Why should Steve be worried?”

“Multiple reasons.” Wanda put down her fork, and turned to face Steve properly, maintaining eye contact with him without blinking. Her sweet smile from before was also gone, replaced by a  _ very  _ blank expression. “It is not relaxing. It is stressful. The battles in game are  _ very much  _ more stressful than a real life battle. You do not know true stress until you require a roll of thirteen to win the battle for your party, only to roll a one and everyone  _ dies _ .”

Steve did not look impressed by this. “You done?”

Wanda returned to her sweet smile. “Yes, I believe I got my point across.”

“It will be different for us,” Steve seemed adamant on this point.

Clint shrugged a shoulder, looking at the “us” Steve mentioned. “I don’t know Cap, I think it might be quite similar for us. Natasha does not know how to take anything not seriously.”

To illustrate his point, Natasha threw a bread roll at Clint’s head.

“LIes and slander, Barton.” Natasha paused, picking up another bread roll and beginning to butter it. “Though he is right. I  _ would  _ take this seriously, if this is something we are going to do.”

“I would expect nothing less than your full attention to detail. Funnily enough, I  _ had  _ considered whether there would be more…  _ appropriate  _ activities for the team. I feel as though Dungeons and Dragons would be the best for the team.”

“Your funeral,” Clint muttered under his breath, which resulted in  _ another  _ bread roll being thrown at his head. 

_ Worth it _ , Clint thought as he ate the second bread roll.  _ Completely, and totally, worth it. _

 

_ ///// _

 

Steve worked quickly when he set his mind to something.

The next morning, Clint received an email containing a file that proclaimed to have  _ “everything  _ a new player needs to get started in Dungeons and Dragons.”

“What did I agree to Lucky?” Clint asked his dog as he rolled over in bed. The dog in question tilted his head quizzically. Clint huffed out a laugh as he got out of bed, Lucky following at his feet.

“That describes my opinion perfectly, my friend.”


	3. Mutual pining, thy name is winterhawk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five thousand words of mutual pining in this chapter.

It had been two months since that fateful morning, and  _ Dungeons and Dragons: Avengers Edition _ had not been a total disaster yet, to the amazement of everyone.

_ It’s going a hell of a lot better than my love life,  _ Clint mused as he walked with Lucky on a cold December morning. As he often did, he tried  _ not  _ to think about Bucky Barnes, his friend, who he maybe wanted more than friendship with but would settle for friendship because he did not have enough of those.

Clint shook his head, clearing out his thoughts.  _ Way to go Barton, you suck. Immensely.  _

The voice in his head that sounded like Kate scoffed at him, in the way that only she could do. Clint rolled his eyes, and focused back on the task of walking Lucky.

Clint and Lucky returned from the morning walk to find a shadow in the apartment who had not been there when they had left.

Lucky went right up to the shadow, before sitting at the shadow’s feet. The shadow waited a moment, before bending down to hug the dog.

“Rough night?” Clint asked the shadow as he put his hearing aids in, before going to start the coffee machine. He got out two mugs, and waited for the machine to finish. Once he had poured the two cups, he turned around, putting them on the countertop. 

In the time that Clint spent making coffee, the shadow had disappeared, being replaced with one Bucky Barnes, who sat at the countertop and gratefully took one mug of coffee. Lucky made himself comfortable, sitting underneath Bucky’s chair.

“It was not terrible,” Bucky answered Clint’s question from earlier, “But…. yeah.”

_ But I could not stay in the Tower.  _

This was not the first time Bucky had come to Clint’s apartment building after a nightmare. And he understood- sometimes you had to physically remove yourself from the location of the nightmare.

There was a reason Clint stayed at his apartment more nights than he stayed at the Tower.

“That’s good.”

“Steve knows I am here.”

The first time Bucky had left the Tower after a nightmare, no one knew where he had gone, and to say Steve, and everyone, had reacted badly would be an understatement.

Bucky know made sure that Steve knew that he was okay. 

“Does Steve know  _ why  _ you are here?”

Bucky shook his head, looking down into his coffee. His hair fell into his eyes, and he made no move to shift it.

“Hey, no, do not be sad. When you are sad, I do not get to see your beautiful eyes.”

_ That  _ got a reaction out of Bucky, who slowly raised his head in order to stare at Clint.

The corner of Clint’s mouth turned up in a smile. “There he is. You know the deal.”

The first few times Bucky appeared at Clint’s apartment building, he would remain a shadow, doing nothing more than staring into nothing, not making any noise.

Clint had suggested that Bucy try and not hide the whole time he was over. Bucky had agreed to try. 

And now here they were, almost a year later, and able to hold conversations almost every day.

Never mind that Clint called Bucky’s eyes ‘beautiful’, and several variations on that word- that was merely to get a reaction out of Bucky, to make sure that Bucky heard him.

At least, that's what Clint told himself.

So what if there was some truth to the words he used? So what if he did think that Bucky had beautiful eyes?

It was irrelevant.

Nevermind the fact that Clint would use those same variations to describe Bucky himself, and every part of him.

Bucky was Clint’s friend; he came to the apartment building because he felt  _ safe  _ here. There was no way that Clint would take advantage of that in any way whatsoever, no matter Clint’s personal feelings.

Besides which, Lucky had obviously found a friend in Bucky; if Clint ever got the guts to ask Bucky out on a date, then Lucky would be the one to truly suffer when Clint inevitably ruined everything and Lucky never got to see Bucky again.

So, for Lucky’s sake, Clint stayed quiet, sitting at the countertop and talking with Bucky about little, everyday, mundane things, anything other than what was  _ really  _ going through his mind.

 

/////

 

Often, it was the simple act of walking over to Clint’s apartment building that cleared Bucky’s head after a nightmare. 

Of course, being able to spend time with the man himself was always appreciated. And in those early days, it was practically a requirement.

But it seemed as though his body had come to associate the walk with the relaxed outcome, and for that, Bucky was not complaining.

It simply meant that Bucky did not necessarily have to climb into Clint’s apartment through the fire escape, and could, hypothetically, wait for a reasonable hour, and knock on the front door. Or, hypothetically, he could wait outside the front door until Clint got out of bed in order to take Lucky for his morning walk.

Hypothetically, Bucky knew these things.

In reality, Bucky still climbed through the fire escape, and waited in the shadows for Clint to appear.

It was a routine, and a routine that Bucky had come to depend upon. No matter what time of day or night he needed to, he was allowed to come to Clint’s apartment.

Clint had been  _ very  _ clear on that point.

“Of course you can come at any time,” Clint had said, when Bucky had first questioned Clint’s open door (or open window) policy. “Nobody gets to choose when they need an escape.”

Bucky was immensely grateful that the universe had seen fit to allow Clint Barton into his life.

Clint Barton, who did not give Bucky sad looks out of the corner of his eye when he thought that Bucky was not looking.

Clint Barton, who did not pretend that Bucky was any less than who is should be.

Clint Barton, who had no preconceived notions about how Bucky should react or respond to anything.

Clint Barton, who had offered a practical stranger into his home without a second thought.

Clint Barton, who claimed to be a human disaster, but who was, in reality, one of the finest people Bucky knew.

Bucky shook his head, focusing back on the mug of coffee in his hands. It wasn’t a good idea to not listen to Clint; even if Clint was talking about taxes, any word out of Clint’s mouth was like treasure to Bucky, something to be held onto and cherished.

_ Yes, I have a crush. No, Steve voice, I do not want to act on it.  _

_ Not  _ yet _ , anyway. _

 

/////

 

Bucky’s ability to know just the right thing to do, without any hints or clues from Clint, continued to astound Clint. It always caught him off guard, how Bucky would just  _ do  _ things without Clint having to even  _ think  _ about it.

It was a week later, and it was another morning spent in Clint’s apartment, hands holding the precious mugs of coffee close to their mouths, and talking about anything and everything, without talking about the most important things.

Bucky had suggested a change in topic, seeing how Clint’s eyes had begun to glaze over. Clint latched onto the chance immediately.

“You are not wrong,” Clint said into his coffee, drinking a mouthful before lowering it. “So… the weather. It is certainly…. Weather-y?”

_ Weather-y?  _ Seriously  _ Barton?  _ That  _ was the best you could come up with? _

There was a ghost of a smile across Bucky’s lips at Clint’s response, which made the embarrassing and tongue tied nature of the response worth it.

“Weather-y is one way to put it,” Bucky responded, his ( _ beautiful _ ) eyes showing the humour that was hidden from his face. “The walk over was a mix of rain and wind.”

“Yuck, that is the worst.” Clint took a drink of coffee; when he lowered his mug back to the coffee, Bucky was looking at him with one eyebrow raised in question. “What?”

“You say that about any weather though,” Bucky pointed out.

Clint considered the sentence, drinking more coffee in an attempt to look like he was  _ not  _ thinking through his reply more than was absolutely necessary. 

“I… I may think that all weather is the worst, yes,” Clint eventually conceded. In reward for this admission, Bucky’s smile became visible.

“Well, your secret is probably safe with me,” Bucky shrugged, smile still firmly in place.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Probably? I have got to say Barnes, that does not exactly fill me with much confidence in your ability to keep this secret safe.”

Bucky just smiled back at Clint as he took a drink of coffee. Clint narrowed his eyes at Bucky, trying to get him to respond to his statement.

Bucky blinked back at Clint, obviously not affected by Clint’s attempts to get an answer out of him. 

After an impromptu five minute staring contest, Clint eventually blinked, shaking his head as he held up his hands.

“Fine, fine, you win,” Clint laughed, as he continued to shake his head. “You can keep secrets. I should never have doubted you.”

Bucky continued to stare Clint down for a further minute and seven seconds (yes, Clint was counting- what else are you meant to do when you are being stared down by the Winter Soldier himself?), before nodding with a smile. “Good. You should not doubt me. I am very trustworthy, when I want to be.”

Clint blinked at Bucky, staring at him for a moment, before pointing a finger at him, a smile turning up the corners of Clint’s lips. “Okay, now I  _ know  _ you are messing with me.”

Bucky merely raised an eyebrow in response to Clint’s statement. “Believe me, Barton- if I  _ were  _ messing with you? You would  _ never  _ know.”

Bucky raised his mug, saluting Clint with a nod, before draining it. He put the mug back down on the countertop, before standing up. “Come on Lucky, time for a walk.”

Lucky stood up instantly, going to wait by the door.

Bucky walked over to follow him, and with one hand on the doorknob, turning back to look at Clint questioningly. “Well?”

Clint frowned, confused. “Well what?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, though the movement seemed fond more than anything. “Well, are you going to come on a walk with the two of us?”

Bucky taking Lucky on a walk wasn’t a new thing; in fact, it had been a common occurance lately. It still amazed Clint every time he saw it, just how much Bucky fit into his life. 

_ Also how much would be ruined when I ruin my friendship with him. _

Clint drained the rest of his coffee (which was, thankfully, cooled down enough to enable Clint to down it in one mouthful  _ without  _ burning his tongue and/ or throat.)

(Again).

After avoiding  _ that  _ all too common disaster from befalling him, Clint pushed away from the countertop, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his neck from side to side, knowing that it would have made at least a small cracking sound.

Though, going by Bucky’s  _ reaction  _ to Clint stretching his neck, Clint was going to guess that it was more than a small cracking sound.

“That was a concerning sound, even for you Barton,” Bucky said as he opened the front door, walking out with Lucky on his heels.

Clint rolled his eyes, also shrugging as he pulled the door closed behind them and followed Bucky and Lucky down the hallway of the floor. “It wasn’t  _ that  _ loud-  _ I  _ couldn’t hear it, after all.”

“That is not much of a measure for volume Barton, and you know it,” Bucky turned to look over his shoulder as he replied to Clint, while still walking down the hallway.

Clint rolled his eyes again, beginning to walk down the staircase of his apartment building. He had looked into fixing the elevator multiple times, but each quote ended up being somehow  _ worse  _ than the one before it.

So Clint just let it be; the tenants had all figured out a system that enabled them to house the residents who were unable to climb the stairs, in the lower floor apartments. No one ever had an issue with having to move in order to accommodate that, and Clint  _ really  _ wished he could fix the elevator.

The tenants did not deserve such a shitty apartment building, but here they were.

“You are not anywhere near as funny as you think you are, Barnes,” Clint said as he passed Bucky and Lucky on the stairs, taking the stairs two at a time and easily passing the other two.

Lucky stayed at Bucky’s walking pace, clearly not in a hurry to go anywhere. Bucky also seemed to be in a similar mood, given that he did not quicken his pace at all in response to Clint speeding past. In fact, Bucky also did not slow down in response to Clint speeding past.

“I think I am just as funny as I need to be,” Bucky responded when he reached the bottom of the stairwell, Lucky a couple of steps behind.

Clint, who had been leaning against the wall next to the stairwell for almost a minute (forty seven seconds. Yes, of course Clint counted- he would rather count the seconds than let his thoughts drift elsewhere.)

( _ Elsewhere,  _ of course, referring to one Bucky Barnes, but no one needed to know that besides Clint.)

Clint shrugged his shoulders, pushing off of the wall and walking over to the front door to the apartment building, holding it open for Bucky and Lucky. “Everyone has a different sense of humour.”

“Lucky agrees with me.” Bucky looked down at Lucky, who had looked up at the sound of his name. “Don’t you, Lucky?”

Lucky yipped, tail wagging in response. Bucky looked up at Clint, with a clear and wide smile on his face. He walked out the front door for the apartment building, Lucky at his feet and Clint not far behind.

“See?  _ Lucky  _ agrees with me.”

Clint rolled his eyes for the third time that morning, beginning to walk down the street, drawing level with Bucky. Lucky stood on Bucky’s other side, easily keeping pace with the two of them.

“Lucky will agree with anyone who has ever given him food.” Clint paused momentarily, considering his statement before amending it. “Anyone who has ever given him food,  _ and  _ never given him a reason to hate them. You fit that category.”

“You are not wrong about that, Barton,” Bucky answered with an easy smile, taking a moment to briefly glance down at Lucky. Lucky continued to walk along as though nothing was wrong in the world, and nothing had ever  _ been  _ wrong. Bucky looked back up at Clint, wearing an expression that Clint was not entirely sure he liked. The expression promised mischief, and nothing good in Clint’s future. 

When Bucky did not immediately say anything, Clint raised his eyebrows at him, waving a hand at Bucky. “Well? Got something to say to me, Barnes?”

Bucky’s smile grew bigger, and although Clint could not see Bucky’s eyes from behind the sunglasses that the other man wore, Clint was almost one hundred percent confident that they were  _ very  _ amused right now.

“I was just contemplating whether or not I would be able to take Lucky. I mean, I am almost completely, one hundred percent, confident that I have his unquestioning loyalty. The only question would be whether or not he is willing to leave your sad, sorry excuse for an apartment.”

“Sad, sorry excuse for an apartment?” Clint echoed, shaking his head in disbelief. “ _ You  _ are calling it a sad, sorry excuse for an apartment? How could you even consider using those words to describe my very nice apartment?”

Bucky stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, Lucky sitting down next to him. Clint walked forward another couple of steps, before realising that he was short a Bucky and a Lucky. He promptly turned around, and walked back to Bucky and Lucky in two steps. Clint stopped in front of Bucky, hands on his hips and an expectant expression on his face.

Bucky responded by simply raising his eyebrows expectantly. “What?”

“Explain your choice of words!” Clint threw his hands up to punctuate his words.

The corners of his mouth ticking upwards was the only sign that Bucky was not too serious right now. “Clint,  _ you  _ used those  _ exact words  _ to describe your apartment yesterday.”

“No I did not,” Clint immediately responded.

Bucky raised his right eyebrow high over his sunglasses. “Yes, yes you did. Those  _  exact  _ words.”

Clint thought back to yesterday, and when he could have  _ possibly  _ used those exact words to describe his apartment.

 

                  It had been a rough night for Clint, the edges of his memory deciding to creep in too close for his liking. He had ended up forgoing sleep, and sitting by the window, looking out at a cloudless night. Though it may have been cloudless, the stars were not able to shine; the surrounding buildings made it impossible for any stars to shine bright enough to be seen through the artificial lights.

A mug of room temperature coffee in one hand, and the other nestled in Lucky’s fur, Clint stared out towards the West, where he could  _ just  _ see the top of Avengers Tower peeking out above the other buildings.    
It was far away, but it still managed to dwarf the other buildings around it. And yeah, maybe one day Clint will feel comfortable enough to move in there permanently. But he had too many responsibilities in this apartment building; he could not just leave his tenants at the mercy of anyone and everyone trying to make a quick dollar. 

Plus, Lucky was comfortable here. Why would Clint even  _ think  _ about moving, when Lucky was clearly comfortable here?

Clint knew what it was like to be moved around, without a say in the matter- he would not subject anyone else to that.

Clint was broken out of his silent contemplation of the universe and his position in it by the feeling of his phone vibrating next to him. 

He took his hand off of Lucky, who looked at Clint briefly before promptly turning his head and going back to sleep. Clint got his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie, unlocked it with a simple swipe of his thumb, and checked the message.

 

**From: Barnes**

**just broke ur high score on the training course- targets.**

**:D**

 

Clint blinked at the message, checking the time.  _ Four thirty six am.  _ Why  _ is Barnes on the training course at four thirty six in the morning? _

Clint quickly typed up a response.

 

**To: Barnes**

**Why?**

 

**From: Barnes**

**because I can?**

 

**To: Barnes**

**But** **_why_ ** **this early in the morning?**

 

**From: Barnes**

**couldnt sleep.**

 

**To: Barnes**

**You need to come over?**

 

**From: Barnes**

**no,  am good.**

 

**From: Barnes**

**why are** **_you_ ** **awake?**

 

**To: Barnes**

**Also couldnt sleep**

 

**From: Barnes**

**would you like to come over here?**

 

**To: Barnes:**

**No.**

 

**From: Barnes**

**would you like** **_me_ ** **to come over there?**

 

**To: Barnes**

**What, to my sad, sorry excuse for an apartment? No, I will be right.**

 

**From: Barnes**

**if youre sure.**

 

**To: Barnes**

**I am. I might come over at a more reasonable time in order to reclaim my record on the training course.**

 

**From: Barnes**

**you can** **_try._ **

 

**To: Barnes**

**Oh, now I** **_have_ ** **to break it.**

 

**From: Barnes**

**you can** **_try_ ** **.**

 

They had texted until the sun had risen, quickly devolving into sending each other memes. It was a good distraction, and exactly what Clint needed to avoid being consumed by his inner, clouded thoughts.

 

                    Clint shook his head, giving Bucky what he hoped was an apologetic expression. “Sorry Barnes, I cannot, for the life of me, recall using those exact words yesterday to describe my apartment.”

“Thought you might say that,” Bucky replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He unlocked it, typed in a couple of things, then turned it around to show Clint the message he had sent yesterday. “See? ‘Sad, sorry excuse for an apartment.’ Your message, your words, undeniable proof.”

Clint squinted at the message, before shaking his head. “Nah, I think you have photoshopped this.”

“Photoshop?” Bucky’s face was incredulous, turning the phone around to look at the message again. He studied it for a moment, before looking back up at Clint. “Clint, I am an  _ expert  _ at identifying digital manipulation. I can assure you, this is a genuine message from you. In fact, if you were to get your mobile phone out of your pocket, we will have conclusive evidence of the fact that this is a message sent from you.”

Clint reached into his pocket, before pulling out an empty hand. He shrugged his shoulders at Bucky, going for an innocent expression. “No can do Barnes, it seems as though I have left my mobile phone at my sad, sorry excuse for an apartment.”

Bucky’s face lit up; with one hand he pocketed his phone, and used the other to point his index finger at Clint. “A ha! See,  _ you  _ just described your apartment as a ‘sad, sorry excuse for an apartment’!”

Clint, realising what he had done, closed his eyes for a moment. He tilted his head back, groaning, before tilting his head back forward, dragging a hand down his face as he opened his eyes again. Clint was not surprised to discover that Bucky was still wearing that excited expression on his face. 

Clint blew a breath out through his nose, pointing a finger back at Bucky. “I only said it because you have been saying it so many times this afternoon! So of course it was on my mind!”

Bucky laughed as he shook his head, turning around to begin walking back to the apartment. Lucky got up as soon as Bucky began walking, once again easily keeping pace with him. Clint took a moment to just stare at Bucky’s back, before beginning to catch up to the two of them.

Once Clint had caught up to him, Bucky responded to Clint’s last statement. “Anything you say, my dear.”

Clint rolled his eyes, again, as he opened the door to the apartment building for Bucky and Lucky. He continued to hold it open for Mrs Wethers, who was carrying her groceries in.

“Thank you, Mr Barton.” She smiled at him, sparing a glance for Bucky and Lucky, who had already begun to climb the stairs. 

Bucky took a moment to pause on the first step, raising an eyebrow at Clint and pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head. Clint nodded, mouthed  _ just a moment _ , and waved at Bucky.

Bucky nodded, turning around and climbing the stairs two at a time, Lucky bounding up alongside him.

Mrs Wethers turned back to Clint with a knowing expression. “You are very lucky to have found such a nice man to share your life with.”

“Yeah, he is pretty….” Clint trailed off as the  _ meaning  _ behind Mrs Wethers’s statement became clear. He quickly stammered over his words, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Uh, no. It… it is not like that. See, we are just friends.” Clint paused, swallowing, unable to look away from Mrs Wethers’s seemingly all knowing look. “Honest?”

Mrs Wethers simply smiled, and would probably have reached out to pat Clint’s arm or cheek if she had not been carrying her groceries. “It is up to you. Would you mind helping me to carry my groceries to my apartment as I deliver my elderly wisdom?”

“Of course I can help you,” Clint took the two bags off of Mrs Wethers, and walked beside her as they made their way to Mrs Wethers’s first floor apartment.

“If you do not wish to tell me, then do not tell me. You do not owe anyone anything.” Mrs Wethers unlocked the door to her apartment, leading Clint to the countertop and patting it; he put down the bags. Mrs Wethers smiled at him, and as Clint had suspected earlier, patted his arm now that she was able to. “The only person you owe anything to, is yourself. So long as you are honest with yourself, you will know you are doing the right thing.”

Clint smiled, nodding at Mrs Wethers’s advice. “Thank you, Mrs Wethers.”

“Anytime, Mr Barton.” Mrs Wethers let go of Clint’s arm, and gestured to the door. “Now go on, I am sure that you do not wish to spend the rest of your afternoon with me when you have someone else to spend it with.”

Knowing better than to try and argue with Mrs Wethers, Clint simply nodded and left the apartment making sure to close the door behind him.

Clint took a moment to just  _ breathe,  _ standing outside of Mrs Wethers’s apartment. Mrs Wethers was a kind lady, who reminded everyone that she would only be working for another five more years before retiring to a nice nursing home where she could live out her life in peace and quiet. 

Clint held no ill will towards her, but Mrs Wethers was perhaps a bit  _ too  _ observant for his liking.

Yet again, Clint stood contemplating a relationship with Bucky Barnes. And yet again, Clint almost immediately rejected the notion. There was just too many reasons  _ why  _ it was a bad idea. 

Clearly.

Human train wrecks such as Clint Barton did not deserve happiness with another human.

Human train wrecks such as Clint Barton did not deserve happiness full stop. 

Nora, Clint’s therapist, would have his neck if she heard his thoughts right now.

It was one of his goals, to  _ stop  _ the self negativity. And he  _ was  _ making progress. 

Instead of having the thoughts all the time, he was only having them once or twice a day.

Like he said,  _ progress _ .

Any progress is good progress. Or, at least, that is what Clint kept hearing people say. And maybe he could give it a try. 

_ Or you could ruin everything, and undo every amount of progress ever. _

Clint frowned at the Kate voice in his head, knowing that that isn’t what she’d say in this situation.

She’d tell him to go for it. In fact, if she was on this side of the country, Clint was sure she’d come and tell him in  _ person  _ to go for it.

Unfortunately, she was not, so Clint only had himself for advice.

_ Yeah, I’m doomed. _

Those types of thoughts are not good for Clint.  What is also not good for Clint, is standing outside Mrs Wethers’s apartment for ten minutes, while staring into space and thinking about a possible life with Bucky. Especially since Bucky and Lucky would be upstairs in Clint’s apartment, probably worried about what trouble Clint has managed to get himself into  _ this  _ time, and Bucky is more than one hundred percent likely to be about to send out a search party consisting of himself and Lucky.

Therefore, Clint forces himself to start walking up the stairwell to his apartment, finding the front door locked.

Frowning down at the door handle, Clint was about to bang his head lightly against the door, (or just rest his forehead against the door, and fall asleep) (either option was likely at this present moment), when the door opened, and Clint all but fell onto Bucky’s chest.

Well, that was a lie. He  _ did  _ fall onto Bucky’s chest. 

Bucky had caught him before he could fall completely, and was not making any move to let go Clint anytime soon.

Clint closed his eyes, and wished to the universe that the ground would open up and swallow him right now.

Clint opened his eyes when he felt Bucky beginning to laugh. He lifted his head to look up at Bucky, but found himself practically eye level with the other man.

“Uh,” Clint eloquently stuttered out, only a little bit mesmerised by Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky’s hand was still on Clint’s back, and he seemed to be equally mesmerised by Clint’s eyes as Clint was by Bucky’s.

There was a moment, probably brief in reality but to Clint it felt like a lifetime, where they just stared into each other’s eyes, each holding their breath and unable to look away or move or do anything but  _ stare.  _

A moment where thousands of possibilities seemed to present themselves, be possible, and happiness was a genuine possibility.

Bucky was the one to break the silence, when he let go of Clint and took three steps back, suddenly looking anywhere  _ but  _ at Clint.

“I, uh, Tower. Um,” Bucky turned to the side in order to walk past Clint, before walking out of the door. “Sorry,” he added, before closing the door behind him and leaving.

Clint did not move. He remained standing in exactly the same spot that he had been when Bucky had caught him. Clint was even still staring into the space that had been occupied by Bucky’s eyes.

Sometimes, you hear about moments in time. These moments seem inconsequential, completely, utterly, one hundred and fifteen percent normal, until you look back on them years later, when you know the consequences of that moment in time.

You heard about them often enough to know that they happened, but you never thought they would happen to you.

Clint was beginning to think this might just be one of those moments.

Clint could only hope that when the time came, he would be able to look back on this moment with a good feeling. 

For now, as Lucky came and sat on Clint’s feet, bringing him back to the reality of his situation, all Clint could do was sigh. 

He bent down, bending down to kneel on the floor, before collapsing down to sit next to Lucky, hugging his dog.

_ I do not know  _ what  _ that was, but I can only hope that it does not consume my every waking thought for the next ten years. _

(Yes, Clint was being dramatic, but he had been in this type of situation before, so he felt that his drama was warranted.)


	4. Canon typical violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like a life & death situation to make your feelings obvious, am I right?

“A rather curious blend of volcanic ash, powdered root of a babyl tree, and… cinnamon.”

“So you have no idea what those three ingredients could be used for?” Leith asked, also having a worried expression on his face.

Lejlana gave Leith an unimpressed look, which, on an Elf, took on an extra three levels of unimpressed-ness. “I said no such thing. Those three ingredients would combine to…. Combine too….” Lejlana cut herself off, suddenly looking around with worried eyes. “We must leave.  _ Now _ .”

Not needing to be told twice, both Leith and Gorlin immediately stood up, meals and drinks forgotten, and the trio of adventurers made their way to the Tavern’s doors.

The trio of adventurers were not expecting to find the entire town waiting for them on the other side of those doors, all staring at themr as though waiting for an opportunity to attack them.

The trio of adventurers turned back around to face the Tavern, whose occupants were all now standing, expressions  _ exactly  _ the same as those waiting for them beyond the doors of the Tavern.

“What do those three ingredients combine to form, Lejlana?” Leith asked, not knowing what else to do right now.

“My people called it  _ hershet polint _ .” Lejlana audibly swallowed, the fear she never showed  _ extremely  _ clear in her voice. “The  _ blood curse _ . Eternal life, for as long as sacrifices are made. The  _ hershet polint  _ subdues the population, and allows them to live lives without the hunger for blood sacrifices.”

“They do not look subdued,” Leith pointed out.

Lejlana nodded, still looking fearful for her life. “The  _ hershet polint  _ has a lifespan. When it is time for another blood sacrifice, the people begin to lose control. They become focused on nothing  _ but  _ finding that blood sacrifice.”

“And it looks like that is to be us,” Leith sighed. Just their luck to be a blood sacrifice for a crazed town, when all they wanted was to live out the rest of their life in  _ peace _ .

_ Apparently peace is too much to ask for. _

The trio of adventurers each closed their eyes, realising that there was no hope of escaping this time.

“Can I just take this opportunity, before our impending doom,” Leith spoke again. “That I have no regrets in joining up with the two of you on these wild adventures this past year.”

“It has been…. An enjoyable experience,” Lejlana conceded, bowing her head slightly. “A shame that it was to end this way.”

Gorlin nodded in response to the other two’s statements. “An honour. May we meet again in another life.”

Having said their goodbyes to each other, the trio of adventurers were prepared to meet their fate side by side. 

_ Together. _

 

/////

  
  


“Wait, wait, wait, hold on for just one moment.” Wanda cleared her throat, before pointing at Tony, who was acting as Dungeon Master on this occasion. “You said that this adventure would last us a long time. Multiple sessions, I believe your exact words were. And yet here we are, about to die at the hands of what I can only assume is a town full of ravenous zombie like beings.”

Tony merely raised an eyebrow at Wanda’s declaration, barely even acknowledging the finger that continued to be pointed at him. He turned to look at the other two players today. “Do either of you two have anything to add, before I continue on with the adventure? Or would you rather I spoil the ending right now?”

Thor and Bucky shared a look, before shaking their heads at Tony.

“No spoilers please,” Bucky answered.

“Please, continue on with the adventure, Stark,” Thor intoned.

Tony turned to face Wanda, eyebrows lifted expectantly. Wanda sighed, lowering her hand, and moving it so that she could lean her head on her fist. With her other hand, which was holding a pencil, she gestured to Tony. “Continue with your  _ adventure,  _ Stark.”

Tony nodded, tapping at his Stark Pad a couple of times. “Now let me see where we were up to before we were so rudely interrupted.” Tony spared a brief glance at Wanda, who merely rolled her eyes at the not so subtle jab that was aimed at her. Tony cleared his throat, before he began again. “The trio of adventurers were prepared to meet their fate side by side.  _ Together.  _ It truly looked as though there was no possible escape for them. However, just as all hope seemed truly, completely, and utterly lost, a voice was heard as though from the very clouds above themselves-”

“ _ Avengers Alert. _ ”

Tony burst out laughing as he stood up in order to answer the alarm. “Perfect timing, JARVIS. What do we have?”

“ _ Central Park over run with Doombots. Potential Von Doom presence. Alert issued by Captain America. Hawkeye and Black Widow responded; pinned down.” _

“You heard the man.” Tony turned back to the table, to find the three other Avengers had already run off to meet at the Quinjet. “Jet leaves in five,” Tony felt the need to add, before calling one of his many suits to him.

 

/////

 

The Winter Soldier sat in the pilot’s seat of the Quinjet as he flew the short distance to Central Park. The Winter Soldier set the Quinjet to automatic landing, before standing up and stalking to the door in order to hit the button to open it. The Winter Soldier knew that the Scarlet Witch was right behind him, waiting to jump down into the skirmish below.

The Winter Soldier could hear over the comms unit in his ear that the Avengers were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of Doombots. It was not looking good for the three Avengers already on the ground.

Iron Man and Thor’s arrival was certainly helping to turn the tide of the battle, but it was not enough.

Once the rear hatch of the Quinjet was open enough, The Winter Soldier ran down the ramp, before jumping. The Winter Soldier knew it would take three seconds for the Scarlet Witch’s red tendrils of magic to envelop him and guide him to the ground, but the Winter Soldier still took some level of joy at the brief, few moments of free fall.

The red tendrils of magic enveloped him, and the Winter Soldier was lowered to a vantage point with a tree, which gave him a direct line of sight on the majority of the battlefield. The Winter Soldier took a brief moment to give the Scarlet Witch a thumbs up, in appreciation of the excellent location. The Scarlet Witch nodded in response to The Winter Soldier, before she flew herself right into the middle of the battle field, already fighting off a wave of Doombots.

The Winter Soldier began methodically working on taking out the Doombots, quickly and easily falling into the rhythm of the battle. 

The rhythm of this battle was slower than most other battles; The Winter Soldier found these particular Doombots to be lacking in any skill or tactics. They simply had overwhelming numbers on their side.

The Winter Soldier was not expecting anything to go wrong.

Which was why, when The Winter Soldier heard the sounds of Hawkeye stammering for breath, followed by the Black Widow crying out “ _ Hawkeye’s been hit, I can’t get to him _ !”, The Winter Soldier was momentarily taken back.

Only momentarily, for The Winter Soldier knew what he had to do.

The Winter Soldier jumped out of the tree, and began storming to Hawkeye’s location. Any Doombot that got in The Winter Soldier’s way was quickly and deftly dealt with.

The Winter Soldier found Hawkeye trying to fight off three Doombots. The Archer had run out of arrows, and was left to fight with his bare hands. The Winter Soldier could tell that the archer was also fighting with at least seven broken bones. The Archer was also bleeding from his abdomen, the blood already soaking his uniform a dark crimson colour.

In three quick movements, The Winter Soldier had dispatched of the three Doombots who had surrounded the archer. Hawkeye looked up at The Winter Soldier briefly, smiling very weakly, before he collapsed, unconscious.

The Winter Soldier bent down to pick up Hawkeye, and made his way back to the Quinjet. Once there, The Winter Soldier placed Hawkeye onto the medical transport which the team kept in the Quinjet for these times. The Winter Soldier then returned to the pilot’s seat of the Quinjet, and took off, heading back to Avengers Tower.

“ _ Winter Soldier?”  _ Iron Man’s voice came through over the comms.

“Hawkeye needs immediate medical attention. He is unconscious, and bones are broken,” was all that The Winter Soldier said, turning off the comms unit before anyone could reply. 

Once back at Avengers Tower, The Winter Soldier took Hawkeye straight to the medical bay, where Doctor Helen Cho was waiting. She took one look at Hawkeye, and immediately started giving orders to her staff. The Winter Soldier did as he was told, placing Hawkeye on a medical bed which two of Doctor Cho’s assistants wheeled away.

The Winter Soldier watched Hawkeye disappear into the operating theatre, not knowing what was wrong with him or how long the surgery would take.

“Do you require assistance?”

Bucky blinked, looking at Leon Driver, one of the nurses at the Tower. Bucky frowned for a moment at Leon. “No, why would I require assistance?”

Leon gestured to Bucky’s torso. “You are covered in blood.”

Bucky looked down, putting a hand to the blood. Suddenly he remembered everything, and could practically  _ feel  _ his legs giving out from underneath him. Luckily, he made it to a nearby chair before he completely collapsed, Leon looking at him with a lot of concern now. “Mr Barnes?”

Bucky shook his head. “I am fine. It… it is not my blood.” Bucky looked towards the operating theatre, where he knew Clint was, multiple broken bones and an injury that had caused him to bleed out this much. “It is his.”

Leon went away for a moment, before coming back with a cup of tea for Bucky. “I will let you know the moment that you may see Mr Barton.”

Bucky took the cup of tea, barely acknowledging Leon’s words. All he could find the energy to do was stare at the door to the operating theatre, hoping that he got to see Clint soon.

_ And that he is alive,  _ remained unvoiced in the back of his head, Bucky tuning out The Winter Soldier’s input on the matter.


	5. Natasha Romanov, psychic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is psychic, isn't she?  
> (jk)

Clint became aware of two things at the same time.

One, that he was not alone in the room.

And two, that he could hear nothing at all.

And, as he attempted to sit up, he became aware of a third fact; the fact that his abdomen hurt like someone had set it on fire before poking it with a lightning rod.

Clint groaned as he gave up in his attempt to sit up, before feeling a hand press lightly on his shoulder.

A hand made of metal.

“Bucky,” Clint at least attempted to say; it turned out that his mouth was incredibly dry, and being unable to actually  _ hear  _ his own words, he had no idea how close to Bucky’s name he had actually gotten.

He felt Bucky pat his shoulder, before he let go, picking up Clint’s hand with his left hand and putting two things in his right hand.

_ Hearing aids,  _ Clint surmised, opening his eyes to confirm the fact. He smiled at Bucky, who was looking at Clint with a large amount of concern in his eyes. Bucky also looked like he had not slept in at least a week.

Clint waited until he had put his hearing aids in, and turned them on, before attempting to speak to Bucky again. “Bucky, hey. How are you?”

He heard the faint sound of Bucky laughing a little bit, and saw Bucky roll his eyes fondly as he shook his head at Clint. “ _ You  _ are asking  _ me  _ if I am alright?” Bucky spoke as he used his left foot to drag his chair closer to the bed, sitting down before shaking his head at Clint again. “ _ I  _ am not the one who spent sixteen hours in surgery.”

“Sixteen hours?” Clint echoed, before turning his head in order to cough into his pillow. When he turned his head back, Bucky was there, holding a water bottle with a straw in it. Clint sipped, thankful for the liquid on his raw throat. He then looked at Bucky with a small frown. “What happened to me this time?”

“I don’t know Clint,” Bucky admitted as he sat back down, gesturing to Clint’s body. “I just brought you back here.”

“Thank you, you did not have to do that for me,” Clint all but whispered the last two words of his sentence, but Bucky heard them just as fine as if Clint had yelled them.

The change in Bucky’s expression was instant; gone was the concern, gone was the tenderness. Now, all that Clint could see was a carefully constructed mask of  _ nothing _ .

“Of course I had to,” Bucky said as he stood up, staring down at Clint with his mask of blankness. “I would do anything for you, Clint.”

And as Clint watched Bucky walk out of the recovery room, he was not sure that he was meant to have heard the last part of Bucky’s sentence. It did not seem like the type of thing that Clint was meant to hear.

_ And it is not as though I can go and follow him, and ask for some clarification of his words,  _ Clint thought, before he accidentally twisted the wrong way, setting his abdomen on fire again.  _ Owwwww _ .

 

/////

 

As soon as Bucky walked out of the recovery room, Natasha immediately noticed his blank, cold, expression.

_ Something happened in there,  _ she thought as she slipped into the room, to find Clint’s eyes closed in an expression of pain.

“Clint, it’s me,” she said as she sat in the chair beside Clint’s bed.

He opened his eyes immediately at her voice, eyes attempting to hide just how much pain he was in right now. “Natasha, my favourite person. How are you?”

“Do not ask me that, you know why I am here,” Natasha replied, looking at Clint pointedly.

“You are here because I upet Bucky,” Clint sighed, nodding his head against the pillow. “I’m sorry for that, you know. I’m not quite sure what I did wrong, but one moment he was showing his emotions, and then the next I could practically  _ feel  _ the winter set in.”

Natasha gave Clint a look in response to his lack of an explanation.

Clint frowned in response. “Why are you giving me the ‘I would hit you if you were not injured’ face?”

“I would think that that is rather obvious.” When Clint did not answer for a few seconds, Natasha sighed fondly. “I am here to see my best friend, Clint. The best friend who pushed me out of the way of a Doombot, and got his abdomen sliced open for his troubles.”

“Oh, so  _ that  _ is why it feels like it is on fire.” Clint nodded as though he had just gotten the answer to a great mystery of the universe. “Good to know that, I suppose. Here I was worried that I felt like my abdomen was on fire simply because I ate something that I shouldn’t have.”

Natasha had known Clint for long enough that she knew when he was deflecting, and she decided to let it happen. For now. “Do you know who waited by your bedside until you woke up for the past three days?”

“He did?” Clint was genuinely surprised by this new information. “No wonder he looked upset when I said…. That thing that I should not have.”

Natasha reached out to pat Clint’s hand, before leaning forward to kiss his cheek, and then stood up. “I will go and talk to him. You do not need to explain.”

“This is why you are the best,” Clint smiled up at Natasha, before yawning. “But sleep. I need, like, all of the sleep. I am sorry. I truly am.”

“I know Clint. Sleep well.” Natasha watched Clint fall asleep, before she left the room in order to go and talk to Bucky.

_ I might as well know both sides of this before making any judgements or hasty decisions.  _

 

/////

 

Bucky dragged his feet as he slowly made his way from the recovery room of the Tower’s medical wing, not particularly wanting to go anywhere, exactly, except  _ away  _ from Clint.

_ “Thank you, you did not have to do that for me.” _

Clint’s words continued to echo within Bucky’s mind, and he was sure that they would continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

_ “Of course I had to. I would do anything for you, Clint.” _

Bucky was not sure if Clint had heard that last part of his sentence, and at this point, Bucky was not sure which outcome was preferable.

In fact, if you asked Bucky to explain  _ why  _ he said that last part of his sentence, Bucky would not be able to explain it to you. It had felt right, in that exact particular moment, and it had felt like the kind of thing that he had to say right then and there.

But now? Now, Bucky was wondering if it was even appropriate.

Oh, it was still true- Bucky  _ would  _ do anything for Clint. He had done things for Clint, and would continue to do things for Clint, for as long as he was able to be in Clint’s life for.

Times like this, though? Times like this, Bucky just wanted to stay by Clint’s bedside, wanted him to be safe. Wanted to be able to watch Clint, and  _ make sure  _ that Clint  _ stayed  _ safe.

Because somehow, trouble had a way of following Clint Barton everywhere.

And Bucky Barnes often found a way to follow Clint Barton everywhere.

Bucky shook his head, blinking as he found himself staring at a wall. He did not remember walking here. He looked around, not recalling anything about his journey to this exact, particular place in the Tower.

He was still  _ in  _ the Tower (thankfully; on one particularly bad day, he had found himself  _ outside of Avengers Tower _ . It had not been a good day),still in the medical wing of the Avengers Tower, but beyond that, Bucky had absolutely nothing.

“Not again,” he muttered as he rubbed at his forehead and turned around, hoping to find his way out of here.

Instead, he found Natasha looking at him with a slight tilt of her head, standing a little ways down the hallway.

“Hello, Barnes,” she said, straightening  her head, with a small smile on her face.

Bucky lifted his right hand in greeting, but his face was carefully crafted to appear neutral. “Romanov. What brings you here?”

“Same person as you, I am imagining.” Natasha turned slightly, a gesture which indicated that she was going to walk, and that Bucky should walk beside her. After only a moment of hesitation, Bucky stepped forward to walk beside Natasha. The new position meant that he did not have to look into her eyes, which was one benefit.

_ If I am not looking at her eyes, then she is not looking at mine. _

“You would not be wrong,” Bucky eventually answered Natasha’s unspoken question. 

He could see Natasha nod from the corner of his eye, though she kept her eyes forward. “You walked out of there in a hurry.”

“Again, you would not be wrong in that statement.” Their pace was not a hurry either; in fact, Bucky was almost completely sure that Natasha was purposefully walking slower in order to draw out this conversation.

The amount of thought that Natasha put into her next statement, combined with the fact that bucky was almost completely convinced that Natasha was walking the two of them in circles right now, just went to prove his earlier thought about Natasha’s goal of drawing out this conversation.

“You walked out of there in a hurry because you said something that you did not want Clint to hear you say to him anytime soon.”

In that exact moment of time, if you had asked Bucky to take an oath of truth, he would swear in front of a judge and jury and entire courtroom, in fact, in front of the entire  _ world _ , that Natasha Romanov was a psychic. 

Bucky stopped walking, which caused Natasha to also stop walking. She turned to face him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to talk.

“You keep being not wrong about things. So I am thinking that you have more information than you are revealing right now.”

Natasha inclined her head in acknowledgement of Bucky’s words, but otherwise remained silent.

“You are going to wait for me to reveal  _ more  _ information, before confirming or rejecting what I am currently thinking.”

Again, Natasha inclined her head in acknowledgement of Bucky’s words, and otherwise remained silent.

Bucky breathed out through his nose, looking around at where the two of them were. They had, without Bucky realising, left the Medical Wing of Avengers Tower, and were in a secluded part of Avengers Tower that was not frequented by anyone.

_ No chance of  _ anyone  _ overhearing this conversation,  _ Bucky thought, noting the lack of security cameras in the room that he found himself in.

The room looked to be a conference room of sorts; there was a long table, with chairs. It could comfortably seat at least fourteen people. Each chair had space in front of it for a laptop, a tablet, a note pad, pens, pencils, erasers, coffee- anything and everything someone would conceivably need in order to get through a briefing or debriefing.

The walls all around the room were also perfect points on which to project any time of display, for any form of presentation that may be required.

It made a certain sort of sense, to have a briefing and / or debriefing room in close proximity to the medical wing of Avengers Tower, given how often the medical wing of Avengers Tower played host to an Avenger. 

The use of it for other matters was also self evident- the medical staff probably also frequented it for their own briefings and / or debriefings, as needed.

Again, Bucky took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. Natasha watched him calmly, waiting for him to speak. Bucky began to pace around the room, trying to decide just  _ how  _ to word his thoughts right now.

After a moment of Bucky pacing the room, Natasha hopped up to sit cross legged on the table in the room, watching him walk with steady, attentive eyes.

“I care about him,” Bucky eventually decided to go with, saying this to the wall, his back to Natasha. He turned around, nodding to himself, before walking back over to Natasha, looking straight into her eyes as he confessed what he had been unable to word right until this very moment. “I care about him in a way that also makes me think about having a  _ future  _ with him. Where we live together, not just me showing up at his sad, sorry excuse for an apartment building after i have had a nightmare. Me being there for him when  _ he  _ has nightmares, in person, not just sending memes and texts via cell phones. This future has me and him and Lucky being  _ happy  _ together. Because I can  _ see  _ it, Natasha. See it more clearly can possibly anything else in my life right now. And maybe that scares me too much, because it also means that I have to tell him. And if he does not feel the same? Then… then I will walk away. It will hurt, it will  _ suck,  _ but I  _ will  _ walk away. Because Clint Barton deserves to be happy, and he should have that happiness wherever he can, with or without me in his life.”

Natasha did not immediately react to Bucky’s impromptu speech. She simply stared into his eyes, searching them for what he was sure was sincerity. He knew that she would find it, which was why he was surprised by her reaction to poke him on the forehead.

“Idiot,” she muttered, shaking her head at him.

Bucky frowned, obviously confused by Natasha’s response to him. “Idiot? Why would you call me an idiot?”

“ _ If he does not feel the same,”  _ Natasha repeated as she shook her head, even lowering her voice in a close approximation of Bucky’s. Bucky raised an eyebrow in response, still confused by her reaction. Natasha rolled her eyes, but  explained her reaction further. “There is no way that that is going to be a concern here, Barnes.”

“What… how can you know that?” Bucky asked, expression going to what he was sure was cautious optimism.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Bucky, before pointing to herself. “I am his best friend, you know this, right? I know when he feels this way about someone. While it is not my place to say anything  _ for  _ Clint, I can assure you that he will not reject you.” Natasha paused, considering her next set of words carefully, if the tilt of her head and the way she looked at Bucky were any indication. She let Bucky stay under her stare for almost a full minute before saying anything else. “But if you hurt him…. No, you will never get a chance to hurt him, because I will stop you before you even have a chance to  _ think  _ of hurting him. Do we understand each other?”

Anyone who did not know Natasha might have thought that her threat would not be able to be backed up. She was dressed in an oversized sweater (one of Thor’s, judging by the size of it and the way it practically  _ swam  _ on Natasha), yoga pants, and ugg boots. Her hair was loose, and she looked  _ very  _ young right now.

But Bucky  _ knew  _ Natasha Romanov. And he knew that this was no idle threat.

He swallowed, before nodding. “We understand each other, yes.”

Natasha continued to stare at him, before nodding with a smile. “Good. Now go back to him and explain yourself, before he inevitably attempts to escape from medical  _ waaaaaaaaaaay  _ too early for his own good.”

“I thought that that was  _ your  _ job,” Bucky joked, waving a hand at Natasha.

Natasha shook her head with a menacing smile. “Not anymore, it isn’t. Have fun.”

And with that, she jumped off of the table, and made her way out of the room, leaving Bucky to contemplate just what had just transpired.


	6. In which the fools admit the truth to themselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the fools admit the truth to themselves

The room was cold. 

Clint knew that logically, the room was not going to be cold- the temperature in the medical win of Avengers Tower was controlled by JARVIS, after all, and would be catered to each occupant’s preferred temperature.

There was no  _ logical  _ reason for Clint’s room to be cold.

But this information, none of it false, did nothing to change Clint’s opinion- this room was cold.

More than that, it was  _ very  _ cold. 

The kind of cold that creeps into your bones, the type of cold that does not leave you alone. The type of cold that, no matter how many layers of clothes and/ or blankets you have on you, cocooning you, you cannot avoid it. 

And maybe the cold was less about the environment that Clint was currently occupying-  _ maybe  _ the cold that Clint was feeling right now was a symptom of the cold that he was feeling within his chest, within his mind, right at this very moment.

Clint was not in danger of a brain cloud, he knew that much about his current state of mental affairs, but it was a possibility in the near future. The brain clouds, for as much as Clint hated them, despised them with a burning passion, they did protect him from the cold. They protected him from feeling  _ anything _ .

Which, to be brutally honest, Clint had to admit was a problem. It was a bad thing, and not something that he should welcome. At all. Ever.

And yet, this cold that was seeping through him, reaching out in an ever expanding wave?

That cold needed to be stopped before it could reach his toes.

Or his fingers- he liked his fingers, okay? They were kind of necessary for his job, after all. The toes, he could live with losing. But not the fingers. Never the fingers.

_ This…. This is a bad situation _ , Clint thought to himself as he brought the blankets up tighter around himself, blinking back tears that refused to be shed.  _ This is not normal, the cold is fake, I am perfectly fine. _

Clint repeated this mantra to himself, barely pausing after saying those words, before looping back in order to immediately repeat those seventeen words to himself.

There was not much else for Clint to do with himself.

He knew, in the back of his mind, what, exactly, had caused this cold to seep through him. But Clint was having a hard time giving a voice to those thoughts.

Clint had told Natasha that he had needed to sleep, and she had believed him.

Of course she had; what reason would she have had to not believe that her best friend would require sleep after a serious injury and surgery like he had undergone?

Clint had even  _ pretended  _ to fall asleep, knowing that Natasha would not have left until she was sure that he had gone to sleep.

And maybe Clint had slept for a moment; he would never know for sure. What he did know for sure, was that as soon as Natasha had left the room, pulling the door closed behind her,  he had immediately returned to full awareness.

While it seemed and sounded as though Clint had a million and one thoughts rushing through his mind, in reality, there were only two words that mattered to Clint:

_ Bucky Barnes. _

It was amazing to Clint how often his thoughts turned to that man who had so completely inserted himself into Clint’s life that he could not see any way his life could move forward without Bucky Barnes taking up at least part of Clint’s life.

Which was a scary thought, on the surface, while also, at the same time, being a thought that felt completely and utterly  _ right _ .

It was almost scary just how right a life with Bucky Barnes by his side seemed, and felt. Bucky Barnes was already so much a part of Clint’s life, that it would barely be a change.   

And Lucky was already completely and utterly devoted to Bucky Barnes, to the point where Lucky  _ would  _ follow Bucky Barnes anywhere, and everywhere. So there would be no question of Lucky being accepted, and allowed to stay.

(Clint had once, a long, long, time ago, dated someone who refused to have  _ any  _ sort of pets. Suffice to say, that Clint was  _ very  _ quick to say goodbye to that person.)

(Their attitude  _ also  _ was a serious negative. Clint did not miss this person at  _ all _ .)

_ Focus, Clint, you are meant to be having a crisis over  _ Bucky Barnes,  _ not some old relationship from the past. _

And because the universe hated Clint that much, the door to Clint’s room opened at that exact moment, letting Bucky Barnes into the room.

And by some divine miracle, all of the cold left Clint’s body instantly, leaving him feeling warm again.

The look on Bucky’s face was happy, completely opposite to what it had been the last time Clint had seen him. 

“You look like you just won the lottery,” Clint said as Bucky walked over to him.

“Depends on the next few minutes,” Bucky said, before sitting down next to Clint and picking up his hand. 

“Well, that certainly sounds ominous.”

“Go out with me.”

Clint’s mouth closed, because he had  _ not  _ been expecting that. “What?”

“Date, Barton. You and me. Food, dancing, whatever. But you and I are going out on a date.” Bucky paused for a breath, before continuing. “If you say yes, of course. You are under no obligation to-”

“Yes,” Clint interrupted, smiling as much as he could in defiance of the pain he felt from his injuries. “I will go on a date with you, Barnes. Right now, let’s go.”

Bucky shook his head with a smile. “No Clint, you need to recover first.”

“Story of my life,” Clint muttered, shaking his head. “I finally get asked out by the man of my dreams, and I’m stuck in recovery for the next week.”

Bucky laughed softly as he leant in to press a quick kiss to Clint’s lips, a ghost of a kiss. “I can assure you, there is plenty more of that in your future.”

Clint smiled, after getting over the fact that Bucky had just kissed him. “Forward. It. Looking. To.” Clint shook his head, frowning slightly. “You know what I mean.”

Bucky squeezed Clint’s hand. “Yeah Barton, I do.”

 

/////

 

The team found out about Clint and Bucky’s relationship during a campaign, when Taranis and Gorlin inexplicably began dating each other. The lines between character and player were  _ very  _ blurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end :D


	7. Kate Bishop, the hero we need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this fic during NaNo.  
> And during edits, I chose to remove this scene from the fic. I enjoyed it too much to leave it to the scrap pile, so have 1841 words of Bishop & Barnes.

 

Kate Bishop was not surprised by many things in her life these days.

Sure, in the early days of her life as a Superhero, she still managed to encounter things that made her question  _ everything. _

Aliens had been the first thing.

_ Aliens _ . 

And she had kissed one. Well, more than one, since the start, but that first time?

World changing experience for Kate Bishop.

Trying to be a Super Hero, while also trying to navigate the complicated world that was being a teenager, had been almost too much for her.

And then she had gone and found herself  _ leader  _ of a  _ team  _ of teenagers.

(And Loki. The kid version. Who then became a teenager? It was complicated, to say the least).

Then there was the whole  _ Hawkeye  _ situation that Kate would rather just leave in the past, thank you very much.

But that lead her to today, being not at all surprised that the door to Clint Barton’s apartment was open. 

Kate put her key back into her bag while musing on the lecture she would give Clint about installing proper security.  Carefully toeing the door all the way open, she picked up the arrow that she knew Clint kept hidden by the door, and walked through the apartment ready for anything.

What she was not ready for, apparently, was the sight of the Winter Soldier sitting on the tattered old couch in the middle of Clint’s apartment.

Though he did not look very Winter Soldier- y at this precise moment; Lucky was laying across his legs, looking completely calm and at ease with the Winter Soldier being in this apartment. 

The Winter Soldier looked…. Content, was the word Kate was going to use here. 

The Winter Soldier turned to face Kate, taking one look at the arrow in her hand and raising an eyebrow. “You are a terrible robber.”

Kate would have been offended, if she had  _ been  _ a robber. “I am not the one in the wrong apartment.”

“Neither am I,” the Winter Soldier replied, still looking extremely calm, given the situation.

And, Kate supposed, she did not pose that much of a threat to the Winter Soldier, especially not given her current attire- she had been at a garden party when Natasha had called, and her sundress would not do anything to intimidate the Winter Soldier.

But Kate refused to be thought of as an easy target. Tightening the hold on the arrow in her hand, she met the Winter Soldier’s eyes with an emotionless stare.

“This is Clint Barton’s apartment. And  _ you  _ are not Clint Barton.”

“And neither are you,” the Winter Soldier calmly replied, still not making any move to stand up from the couch.

Lucky, however, chose this moment to wake up and, upon seeing Kate, immediately got down off of the Winter Soldier’s lap and bounded over to Kate, sitting at her feet and waiting for her to bend down to pat him.

Kate could have sworn that her eyes met the Winters Soldier’s eyes, before both of them looked down at Lucky, and then the two of them locked eyes again. And Kate could  _ also  _ have sworn that the exact same thought had just gone through the both of their minds;

_ If  _ Lucky  _ trusts this random woman in Clint’s apartment/ The  _ Freaking  _ Winter Soldier, then they  _ must  _ be okay. _

(........... okay, okay, Kate would admit that  _ maybe  _ the thought that had just gone through the Winter Soldier’s mind was not exactly, word for word, identical to her own thought that had just passed through her mind. But the  _ sentiment  _ was very similar, if not the same.)

Kate leant down in order to scratch Lucky behind his ears, but did not loosen her hold on the arrow which was still in her hand, nor did she break eye contact with the Winter Soldier.

The Winter Soldier stood up off of the couch, and walked around- almost lazily, Kate would describe that style of walking as downright  _ casual _ , if she did not know that that man was the Winter Soldier- to stop in front of her, before bending his knees and balancing, perfectly, on the balls of his feet.

He held out his right hand- Kate was not sure  _ what  _ her reaction to the Winter Soldier holding out his  _ left  _ hand would have been- and gave her a small smile.

At least, Kate  _ thought  _ that it could be a smile- it was an upturn of the corners of his lips, at any rate, so Kate was going to call it a smile, until she got proof of any other expression that would more readily fit the description of a smile.

“Since Lucky seems to know you, I can guess that you are not some very well dressed robber.”  The Winter Soldier then gestured to the arrow that Kate was  _ still  _ holding. “You can probably put that down now. Not that it would have done you much good, in any case.”

Kate conceded the point, knowing that the arrow that she now put on the floor would  _ not  _ have done her any good against the Winter Soldier. She then did something that she never thought that she would do in her life; she held out her hand to shake hands with the Winter Soldier.

“Bucky,” the Winter Soldier said, before repeating it. “My name is Bucky. You have that look where you are trying to reconcile the stories you have heard about me, with the person you see in front of you right now. I know, it is weird. I sometimes do the same thing in the mirror.”

“Bisho,” Kate said immediately, an automatic response, before attempting again to say her sentence. “I mean, Kate. Kate Bishop, is my name.”

“Hello, Kate Kate Bishop.” The way that Bucky’s mouth transformed, led Kate to conclude that  _ this  _ was what it looked like when the Winter Soldier-  _ Bucky, his name is Bucky,  _ Kate mentally reminded herself- smiled. “Do not worry, I am just messing with you. What brings you to this sad, sorry excuse for an apartment.”

“Is it not!” Kate could not believe that she had found someone  _ else  _ to join the “Clint, you need a better apartment, stat” club- Clint himself was a member of this club. Kate shook her head as she smiled, taking the hand that she had used to shake Bucky’s hand, and moving it to give Lucky even more scratches. “Natasha texted me, and asked me to check in on Lucky, make sure he was being fed. Though I suspect that  _ you  _ had that covered?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said on an exhale, reaching out to stroke Lucky’s back. “He has been helping to keep me company while Clint is in recovery.”

“Recovery?” Not that Kate was surprised that Clint had injured himself  _ again _ , but still. “What did he do this time?”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, in a move that reminded Kate all too much of  _ Clint _ . “Uh, he saved me?”

“Clint… Clint  _ Barton  _ saved  _ you _ , the Winter Soldier?” Kate could not help but be a  _ little  _ bit amazed by this; by all accounts, the Winter Soldier was unbeatable in the field; no way  _ Clint _ , of all people, would be the one to save  _ the  _ Winter Soldier.

Kate noted the way Bucky instinctively flinched at the mention of the Winter Soldier, and made a note to not mention that name again. 

Bucky nodded though, after taking a moment to compose himself. He looked down at his hand in Lucky’s fur, and Kate could not find it within herself to blame him for wanting to look away; anything that frightened the Bucky Barnes, had to be frightening.

“Yeah, he did. Took a shot meant for me, which meant that he went down, allowing more Doom bots to swarm him. They… they attacked him with a fury I have never seen from a Doom bot before. It took everything I had to get Clint to the medical wing of Avengers Tower before it was too late…” Bucky paused, swallowing, before he looked back into Kate’s eyes.  “He saved my life, I  _ know  _ it.”

“I get that,” and Kate did, which was why she changed the subject to something that Bucky would hopefully find more acceptable, rather than his latest near death experience. “So why are you looking after Lucky?”

“I… I guess you do not know, but I have been hanging out here a … well, a  _ lot  _ would be putting it mildly.” Bucky shrugged a shoulder, looking… well, on anyone else, Kate would call that look nervous, but this was  _ the  _ Bucky Barnes she was talking to. So she was not sure that she could accurately describe the expression that was on his face right now. “And I like Lucky. And his sad, sorry excuse for an owner.”

“Oh…” Kate was just about ready to defend Clint’s (small,  _ small  _ remaining shred of honour), before the words registered with her properly. “ _ Oh _ . You like… want to date Clint, like him. Right?”

Bucky nodded, huffing out a small laugh. “That is pretty accurate, Kate. Much more accurate than any way I have been able to describe the feelings that are inside of me.”

“Sometimes it takes an outside voice to tell you what you cannot tell yourself.” Kate laughed internally at herself; if she had heard those words this time last year, she would have laughed in the face of whoever had spoken them to her. But now? Now she knew the truth in them, and was more than willing, and able, to pass them onto others as needed. 

“You are very wise for such a young one,” Bucky offered in reply.

Kate rolled her eyes, having heard  _ that  _ exact sentence, and many varied variations of it, many,  _ many  _ times in her life. “Not that young.”

“Kate, I was born over one hundred years ago.” Bucky raised an eyebrow at her. “You  _ are  _ a young one.”

“And you do not look a day over seventy two,” Kate replied automatically. She blinked, suddenly realising that maybe, just maybe, that that was an inappropriate thing to say to Bucky.

Bucky stared back at Kate, unblinking, for a moment, before smiling even wider than before, and laughing, honest to everything  _ laughing _ , at something that Kate had said. 

_ Today is so bizarre. First I find the  _ Winter Soldier  _ in Clint’s apartment, now I am making  _ Bucky Barnes  _ laugh.  _

_ No one will ever believe me. _

“So,” Bucky cleared his throat, after having laughed for almost a whole minute. (Kate had counted, obviously). “How do  _ you  _ know Clint?”

“Uh, you really do not know?” When Bucky shook his head, Kate made a mental note to give Clint  _ another  _ lecture later. “I am Hawkeye, sometimes leader of the Young Avengers?”

Bucky frowned at her, looking strangely confused. “Clint talks about a Katie running the….. Wait.” Bucky paused, looking at Kate with very wide eyes. “ _ You  _ are Katie?”

Kate groaned, running a hand down her face. “My name is Kate. But yes,  _ that  _ would be me. Damn it Clint.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :D


End file.
